Left Standing
by EvelinLy
Summary: Ginny Weasley's thoughts after the Battle of Hogwarts


At first there was silence.

A moment to watch Harry, scarred and bruised and left standing. Mini particles floated away, carrying the man who had brought destruction and grief to all of them. His reign of horror brought to an end. There was breathing, and relief - and the sudden realization that some would never go back. People sobbed, some dropped to the ground, others hugged their loved ones.

Little by little, then echoing a blast, they made themselves heard - there was celebration, if only for minutes. Still too much to be done. Too many bodies lying on the ground, too many people to save from what threads of life they held onto.

Ginny Weasley couldn't move, tired brown eyes struggling to follow movements so far away. Tall people clouded her vision, waved their arms in celebrations, patted each other in their backs._ Harry was alive. _He had defeated Voldemort, which meant they were alive. She had seen him so quickly, but some things she needed no time to recognize; bruises that made a path down to his shoulders, an aged pair of glasses covering eyes that yelled for things to be over.

She saw herself in him better than she had ever. A flashback it was, even now, when she got a glimpse of Harry running towards somebody, apart from the crowd; memories of herself down a cold dungeon, of an even colder one, but smaller, with very much alive wizards facing her at the other side. Memories of rationalizing food and volunteering for torture so they could lead another kid back to safety. Of waking up next to a sink on the girl's bathroom, and crying at night because it had been four days since she last slept but she had to keep going.

Had he been through all this? Had he been through_ worse_?

Ginny Weasley watched the man who made her understand the words abuse and manipulation. Stopped dead on her tracks, flinching, pulling wand closer. She'd been closer to death that night than any other, but his face was a thousand times scarier than any end of wand or green light. Disfigured, barely human - she had never seen him before, but it made her understand what kind of monster she met in the past. What kind of creature was responsible for all of this suffering.

Somehow, it quieted the part of her that spent years blaming herself for the petrified students. It fomented the sickness in her stomach, reminded of her teacher's death by trying to save a heroic - young - student, of another who knew the cruciatus curse better than any other.

She couldn't bring herself to move, even as the wizards began to drift away to the castle. There was a hand on her shoulder, fingers tracing the back of her arm, pulling her softly, closer. Dirty strands of red hair fell upon her eyes, played with the tip of her nose, and Ginny flinched when they traced a fading scar from torture. A lump in her throat and her heart jumped once, twice more than it should have, 'till she remembered there was no danger anymore.

She meant to open her mouth and say something but lips parted and closed before she had a chance to - pulled to the castle, gently, but adamant. She met the stare of Molly, and walked closer to her mom, as close as she could have.

Her mind drifted away to memories, even now; it hurt, staring at the castle reduced to ashes. Remembering hurt, but she couldn't erase the flashbacks, and Ginny had a feeling she never would. Forty-seven minutes ago, a girl died in front of her in the exact spot she'd just stepped on. Two hours and thirty minutes before, a sobbing young man surrendered to death when a curse hit the center of a woman's chest. Two meters from where she was looking, she'd walked with a ravenclaw away from battle, hoping her wounds would be fixed before she lost too much blood. Ginny didn't know, but under a flaming pilaster, Colin had last stood with a camera on his hand and a killing curse captured by the flash.

She didn't know how many people saved each other in the surrounding area, and how many claimed the lives of another.

If she herself hadn't claimed one.

For so many months, all she had done was protecting. Surviving. Keeping secrets. Making sure the littlest kids had somewhere safe to go, and that they could stack enough food and water for every new student. She had listened to the radio religiously - as much as she could without gathering unwanted attention -, each day a little more relieved they hadn't found her friends, they hadn't claimed the lives of her family. Each day a little more saddened by the dozens of wizards lost to the hands of death eaters. Ginny had done so much _defending_, she couldn't remember what it felt like not worrying about whoever could be behind her shoulder.

She had managed to save them.

Most of them. Some of them.

Fred was dead.


End file.
